


sanctuary, or something like it

by WednesdayGilfillian



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, M Rating Applies to Later Chapters, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Romance, everyone survives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-04-23 04:12:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14324310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WednesdayGilfillian/pseuds/WednesdayGilfillian
Summary: Having faked his death to escape Count Olaf's clutches, Jacques Snicket sets off for V.F.D Headquarters in the Mortmain Mountains. He doesn't know it, but Olivia Caliban is already there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because we need all the fix-it fic in the world.

The last time he’d seen her, her hair had been loose and glowing in the moonlight. She had been so beautiful, in those brief moments outside the V.F.D jail – Jacques didn’t think he’d ever forget the way Olivia Caliban had looked at him. The way they’d kissed.

And he hadn’t forgotten, not for four lonely weeks. Escaping Olaf’s murderous clutches had been a very near thing, but no volunteer worthy of the title went around not knowing how to fake their death. So now Jacques Snicket was on the run – without his taxi.

He had been lucky at first. He’d managed to get a ride out of V.F.D, stowed away in the back of the truck of a tumbleweed salesman. He’d leapt off just ahead of the Last Chance General Store, where he’d managed to barter for a few provisions. From there onward, he would have to journey by foot.

It wasn’t the hardest thing he’d ever done. He, Lemony, and Beatrice had after all once climbed Mount Fraught with nothing but a pack of chewing gum and a pair of dessert forks. And now he had Olivia to think of, to keep him going. He only hoped she was safe.

\--

The view from the Mortmain Mountains truly was spectacular, but Olivia Caliban could take little solace in it. She was incredibly, unfathomably lucky, she knew, to have escaped the Caligari Carnival alive. Luckier still to have been assisted by skilful volunteers in making it to V.F.D Headquarters. But it seemed so wrong that she should be safe in a fortress of faded luxury while the Baudelaires remained in danger, and Jacques Snicket was…dead.

She had objected, at first, to the idea of going – but the volunteers who’d taken her there had explained that this was where she was needed. They said that other sterling qualities in addition to her bravery had been noted, and that she was just the kind of person the organization needed at Headquarters. She had wondered if they were just being kind.

But upon arrival, she had understood. The V.F.D Headquarters, grand though they were, were severely under-staffed. The ever-worsening spate of crises had drawn most of the volunteers away, leaving only a chef, a nurse, a cleaner, and an aged butler who greeted them at the entrance. The library lay almost abandoned.

Olivia had expected that this would be her task, and she took it up gratefully; while she was shelving books, she didn’t have time to think, about Jacques Snicket, or his fate, or what might have been. But on her second day, over breakfast, the departing volunteers gave her some unexpected news. They’d had word that the Quagmires were passing nearby in a Self-Sustaining Hot Air Mobile Home, and had communicated via carrier pigeon that the triplets would be safe and welcome at Headquarters, if they chose to come. Isadora and Duncan had accepted the offer, and would be arriving via parachute that afternoon.

“The children will be exhausted, and greatly in need of gentleness, kindness and care. We have no doubt, Miss Caliban, that you can provide this.”  
Olivia nodded, her eyes over-bright. (Tears came all too easily to her these days.)  
“Of course. I’ll take care of them. I’d be honored.”

She had adored those children, ever since they’d first stepped into her school library (and been regretfully ushered out ten minutes later). Whatever use she could be to them now, she would do it gladly. And they would be comfortable here – though physical comfort could hardly make up for all they had had to endure.

She waited anxiously in the entrance hall that afternoon. When they came up the front steps, still wearing their parachute harnesses, Olivia all but ran to them. They looked windblown and weary, and older than when she’d seen them last, but still they smiled at the sight of her.

“Quagmires! I’m  _so_  glad to see you!”  
“We’re glad to see  _you_ ,” replied Duncan. “When Hector told us you were here, we could hardly believe it.”  
“Well, we’ve all of us come a long way from Prufrock Prep,” said Olivia, smiling though her tone was bittersweet. “Come inside now, both of you, and let’s get you settled. How about a bath, and some fresh clothes?”

It was clear they were both physically and mentally exhausted...and yet, as always, they were unfailingly polite. They took her every suggestion – a bath, supper, fresh clothes – but did not ask for anything themselves. It broke her heart to think that they had forgotten how to expect, and ask for, comfort.

Isadora was nearly falling asleep into her bowl of trifle when Olivia shepherded them both up to bed.   
“Goodnight, Isadora. Goodnight, Duncan. Don’t hesitate to wake me up, if you need to – my room’s the seventeenth one down the hall.”  
Isadora smiled. “Thank you, Miss Caliban.”  
“Olivia.”  
“Olivia.”  

The librarian sighed to herself a few minutes later, as she pulled the curtains shut on another coldly-beautiful alpine scene. She should be grateful, she knew, to have such a beautiful space to retreat to – to have the whole grand V.F.D Headquarters as her home. But all she could think was that every night she was going to bed alone...when things might have been so very different. Sometimes, late at night or in the early mornings, she let herself dream.

\--

It wasn’t the  _hardest_  thing he’d ever done. Still, it wasn’t proving easy.

But it would be worth it. Where he was going was a safe place – and right now that was what he needed. Once he’d found it, he’d be able to send for Olivia. She could join him – she was a volunteer, after all. They  _would_  be together.

As he navigated a narrow ledge, Jacques imagined what he might say when he finally saw her.

\--

The Quagmire triplets spent their first full day at V.F.D Headquarters with Olivia in the library. She quite understood their choice – libraries had always been places of sanctuary, after all. She was glad of their company, too. They spent the morning checking for wear and tear on any of the books in the Humor & Absurdism section, reading out quotes whenever they found one that struck them as particularly funny. It was good to see the children laugh.

In the late afternoon, Duncan and Isadora went down to the kitchen to see if they could help the chef with the evening’s menu. Olivia was just drawing the library curtains, taking in the spectacular view of the Mortmain Mountains at sunset, when the elderly butler came striding in at an uncharacteristically urgent pace.  
  
“Sampson, what in the world-”  
“Miss Caliban, would you be so kind as to gather any books the library might have on hypothermia? We’ve just had a volunteer arrive unexpectedly, and he’s…in poor condition. Nurse Nichols is seeing to him now.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your responses to the first chapter! I hope you like the second one as much...

Olivia’s step was quick as she followed Sampson down the hall. She had gathered up a few books on hypothermia and related medical emergencies, as requested; Nurse Nichols undoubtedly knew what she was doing, but it couldn’t hurt to have more information on hand.

 _The poor man…_ she thought, as they hurried. _He must be very capable, to have come this far unassisted._

Olivia noticed that they were not heading for the hospital corridor, but for the wing of rooms in which both she and the Quagmires slept.  
“Is he not in the…?”  
The old butler shook his head. “These rooms were closest. And they’ll be easier to warm.”

When they reached the end of the hall closest to the main entrance, Sampson opened a door and stepped back to let her enter. A fire already crackled in the grate, and Nurse Nichols was bustling around the bed, bending over…

‘Hypothermia: Causes and Treatments’ fell to the floor with a thud.

“Miss Caliban!” the butler gasped, staring at her in alarm. “Are you alright?”

Olivia couldn’t speak. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the bed, from the figure of…

“ _Jacques Snicket_ …?”

“That is the gentleman’s name, yes. One of our finest volunteers. Miss Caliban, you’ve gone terribly pale – I think you ought to sit down.”

Olivia allowed herself to be helped into the nearest chair. She did feel as though she might faint. Or, even worse, as though she might be dreaming.  
“But…” she managed, weakly, “Jacques Snicket is dead…”  
“Not yet, he’s not,” Nurse Nichols replied, with grim determination. “It is vital that we bring him back to a stable core temperature, however. I’ll have to cut him out of these wet clothes.”

As the numbness of the initial shock slowly ebbed away, Olivia felt in its place a rising sense of panic. Jacques _was_ alive, but who knew for how much longer…and she was just _sitting there_. 

“What can I do?” she demanded, getting to her feet. Nurse Nichols turned, and it didn’t take her more than a glance at Olivia’s white face to read the situation correctly.  
“You can go and get a strong drink. For yourself. And _then_ ,” she continued firmly, as the librarian began to object, “you can come back and apply a warm compress, and help me monitor his breathing.”

Olivia was in no position to argue; anyway, she was too choked with fear and hope and gratitude to speak. She gave the nurse a brave-if-tremulous nod, and with one last desperate look at Jacques, stepped back into the half-lit hallway.

Nothing seemed real. She barely knew how she made it to the entrance hall, but there she met Isadora, who for some reason was carrying a silver tray. Olivia felt a pang of guilt – in the shock of the past few minutes, she had forgotten the Quagmire triplets entirely. The girl did not look as though she felt neglected, however – only curious, and earnestly sympathetic.

“The chef said I should bring you this,” Isadora explained, offering the tray. “He said there’s been some kind of emergency?”  
The librarian looked down at the meal they’d set aside for her, and thought for a moment she really might burst into tears.  
“Oh, and I don’t know what’s in that tumbler, but the chef said it would help.”  
At that, Olivia gave a watery chuckle.  
“Thank you, Isadora. And you’re sure you and Duncan will be alright dining alone?”  
“Of course! We can entertain ourselves. Just look after yourself, Miss Caliba- Olivia.”  
Olivia shook her head. _What a remarkable child…_

As kind as the thought had been, Olivia barely touched her food. She downed the glass of liquor in one, however, and felt marginally better for it. Leaving the tray in the hallway, she hurried back to the room around which her universe presently revolved.

Nurse Nichols had taken advantage of Olivia’s absence to cut Jacques out of his sodden clothing; it lay in a pile on the floor. He was still barely conscious, and shivering slightly, but now that he was dry and covered to the neck in warm blankets he did look a little better.

“Ah, good, you’re back.” The nurse looked over her shoulder.  
“How is he?”  
“Doing quite well, all things considered. We will have to keep monitoring him, though. See those towels, warming by the fire? Apply those, as a warm compress, to his neck and torso – but _not_ to his limbs, you understand. And when he comes to, he should have a warm drink. Something sweet, but non-alcoholic… I’ll go and have the chef make some hot chocolate. You’ll be alright for a few minutes, alone?”

Nothing would have moved Olivia from her place by Jacques Snicket’s bed. She applied, rewarmed, and reapplied the towels, watching carefully for any sign of danger. He was beautiful, even in this state – and more than that, he was _real_ , alive and tangible. She stroked his hair, not worrying that anyone might see.

Nurse Nichols came back soon enough, with an urn of hot chocolate that could be kept warm until he woke. Having satisfied herself that Jacques’ condition was stable, the nurse retired to an adjoining suite, with instructions that Olivia should wake her on the slightest whim. The younger woman was grateful for her tact, in offering space and privacy.

There was no telling how many hours had passed when Jacques stirred. He had been quiet and still, and his breathing had been steady, when suddenly he let out a soft groan. Olivia sat up at once, leaning over him to press a hand to his brow. His eyes fluttered open…and they had not held Olivia’s gaze for more than a second when they fell closed again.

“Ah,” he said, hoarsely. “ _This_ dream.”  
A choked sob of a laugh escaped Olivia.  
“You’re not dreaming, Jacques. You’re safe. You made it to V.F.D Headquarters, and you’re in the care of Nurse Nichols. And me,” she added, as an afterthought.  
His eyes opened again.  
“I am?”  
“Mmhm,” she managed, torn between impossible joy and the urge to bawl her eyes out.  
“Olivia Caliban…”

Jacques made to sit up, and with an urgent gasp she pressed him back down onto the mattress.  
“You have to lie still! It’s important with hypothermic patients to limit unnecessary movement.”  
“If you insist…”  
She stroked his cheek instead, by way of apology. It wasn’t as though she didn’t _want_ him to embrace her… His eyes fixed on hers, Jacques turned his head just enough to press a kiss to her fingers, and Olivia thought her heart might actually burst.

“You – you should have something warm to drink. I’ve got hot chocolate here, just give me a moment…”  
He frowned, looking down at the blankets covering him.  
“Am I…wearing anything…underneath this?”  
“We had to cut you out of your clothes. I mean,” Olivia clarified, hastily, “ _I_ didn’t do it! Nurse Nichols is the professional.”  
She blushed, in spite of herself, and Jacques’ moustache twitched.

With her help, he drank a little hot chocolate, then settled back down again on the pillows.  
“Are you warm enough? Shall I stoke the fire? There must be another blanket round here somewhere…”  
She knew she was fussing, but she couldn’t help it. She had so nearly lost him, twice.

“I’m fine,” Jacques assured her. “Well, I’m not fine, but how about this: I promise to rest, if _you_ promise not to panic, and just sit here and let me look at you. And hold your hand, preferably.”

Olivia’s mouth curved in a smile.

“You drive a hard bargain, Jacques Snicket…”

\--

The next time Jacques Snicket woke, he felt warm and heavy with sleep. There was the pleasant weight of blankets, the scent of laundered sheets…and a warm hand resting in his own.

_Olivia._

He opened his eyes and saw her – asleep on one folded arm at his bedside, her other hand holding his. An almost-painful warmth rose up in Jacques’ chest.

He lay there, simply watching her sleep in the pale morning light, until a door opened and a middle-aged nurse came softly in. Their eyes met, and her expression softened into a dignified smile.  
“Good morning, Mr. Snicket,” she whispered. “I’m glad to see you’re awake.”

Olivia woke a few minutes later, and once Nurse Nichols had convinced her that Jacques was doing well, she agreed to go and have some breakfast.  
“You can’t nurse anyone properly if you’re dead on your feet yourself,” the older woman said, firmly, ushering her out the door. “Get some rest, Miss Caliban. He will still be here when you return, I promise.”

Once Olivia had departed, the nurse fetched Jacques some warm pajamas, and when he was dressed she checked his condition.  
“You’ve been very lucky. You’re going to need plenty of rest – in fact, I’d recommend you go straight back to sleep after breakfast. You can’t have had a proper meal for days.”

Jacques was not used to leisure time, or being waited on with trays of tea and eggs and toast. He did feel weak, however – tired to the bone – so he lay back and let Nurse Nichols decide. As she had suggested, he dozed away the morning, and by the afternoon he was sitting up in bed. He was just thinking of trying a little walk to find Olivia, when there came a gentle knock on the door.

Olivia’s head appeared around the door a moment later, and her eyes lit up when they fell on Jacques.  
“You’re awake…”  
Her glowing smile seemed almost shy. There was so much unsaid hanging in the air between them.

“Olivia…”  
“The Quagmires are here,” she cut in, before he could make any grand declaration. “They wanted to meet you, if you’re feeling well enough.”  
“The Quagmires?” That jolted Jacques out of his lovestruck stupor. “They’re safe? They’re here? Of course, uh, bring them in!”

The two triplets came in shyly, their hands clasped behind their backs. They looked just like he’d imagined they would. Jacques gave them his most welcoming grin.  
“Duncan, Isadora, this is Jacques Snicket,” Olivia made the introduction.  
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Quagmires. I’m only sorry it didn’t happen sooner; your parents were very dear friends.”  
“We’re glad to meet you,” said Duncan. “I hope you’re feeling better?”  
“I am, thank you. I’ve been very well taken care of.”

“We didn’t know what we could do to be useful,” explained Isadora, “but we couldn’t sit and do nothing…so, last night we made you these.”  
From behind their backs, the triplets produced what they’d been concealing – a matching hat and scarf, knitted in dark maroon. Jacques gaped at Olivia, who was watching the scene play out in warm amusement.

“Thank you,” Jacques grinned sincerely, reaching out to accept the gifts. “Hang on…”  
He threw the scarf around his neck and pulled on the hat, carefully positioning the bobble.  
“How do I look?”

The question was transparently aimed at Olivia; he couldn’t help himself. She blushed under the children’s gaze, but nonetheless managed an answer.  
“…Warm. And obviously very stylish.”

Olivia shepherded the children out not long after that. Jacques grinned, watching them go – it seemed impossible that just a day ago he had been alone and freezing on the side of a mountain. How had things improved so much in such a short space of time? Of course, he knew the answer – it had everything to do with Olivia Caliban.

And he’d find time to tell her that, alone, as soon as possible.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for your comments! Feedback is so, so appreciated. I hope you like this chapter!

The following morning, Jacques was up and about – though under strict instructions to remain indoors. The Quagmires were keenly invested in their new friend’s full recovery, and determined to make themselves useful in keeping him entertained. After breakfast, they set him up in the coziest armchair by the library fire, and he and Duncan played cards and chess and dominoes while Isadora composed limericks to make them laugh.

Olivia’s heart swelled as she watched them. Despite the warmth of the room, Jacques was loyally wearing the maroon scarf the Quagmires had knitted him – and to say he looked dashing would have been an understatement. She was finding it hard to keep her mind on her book.

“Olivia,” Isadora looked up from her notebook, smiling brighter than Olivia had ever seen her. “I’ve just written a limerick about you. Would you like to hear it?”  
“Of course!” Olivia beamed, surprised and flattered. Isadora cleared her throat.

“There was once a lovely librarian,  
Whose employer was rude and contrarian;  
So she upped and she left,  
Leaving Prufrock bereft,  
And all wishing that she could be there-again.”

Olivia laughed, delighted, and across the room Jacques applauded, grinning.  
“That last rhyme’s a bit clumsy, I know,” Isadora smiled modestly, blushing under all the attention.  
“It’s _excellent_ ,” Olivia assured her. “Though I doubt Prufrock’s really missing me all that much.”  
“Their loss,” said Duncan, and Jacques gave him a look of quiet approval.

Fresh snow was falling softly outside by the time Olivia had given up on actually reading, and started mending damaged library books instead. Across the room, Jacques had, in theory, started on a book himself...but every time she looked up from her work his eyes seemed to be on her. He was sitting back, regarding her with a contented smile that made her want to walk over there and…

“Olivia?” Isadora’s voice cut through her daydream.  
“Uh, yes?”  
“May I put something on the gramophone?”  
“Of course. That’s a good idea.”

The girl crossed the room and began flipping through the pile of dusty records. Duncan looked up with interest, and went to join her. Feeling Jacques’ eyes on her again, Olivia applied herself more intently to mending her book – until the crackle of the gramophone gave way to the opening bars of a lilting melody, and then a recorded voice began to sing.

_“Let’s fall in love / Why shouldn’t we fall in love…”_

“You know, Iz, I just remembered,” said Duncan, in a carefully audible voice, “the chef promised we could help him make tonight’s ice cream.”  
“Oh, yes,” his sister replied, just as naturally. “We’d better get down to the kitchen before he starts without us. We’ll see you later, Olivia, Jacques!”

Olivia waited for their footsteps to disappear down the hall before she dared to look at Jacques; when she did, she saw that his shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter. She breathed a laugh, relaxing, and shot him a smile.

“Do you think they think they’re being subtle?”  
Jacques grinned, and she felt a familiar swoop in her stomach.  
“They’re smart kids. The lack of subtlety is probably the point.”

He got to his feet, stretching, and Olivia suddenly didn’t know where to put her eyes. Or quite how to breathe, for that matter. They hadn’t been really alone like this since the village.  
“Anyway,” he continued, crossing the room to join her on the sofa, “sometimes subtlety is overrated. Don’t you think…?”

He was so close. Olivia opened her mouth to reply, without any idea of how she might answer – and then Jacques’ hand was cupping her cheek, and his lips were on hers.

It was dizzying. It was everything she’d wanted, and had thought she might never have again. The delicious warmth of him, the faint scratch of his moustache…his hands on her waist in ways she’d only dreamed of. She steadied herself with both hands on his shoulders. When, eventually, Jacques pulled away, they were both breathing heavily.

“You do know I’m in love with you?”  
He said it as though it was obvious; as though checking they had the same briefing for some new mission. His eyes were so warm, however, that Olivia couldn’t quite speak. Kissing him again seemed to be the only option.

“So, uh…” Jacques cleared his throat; his voice was husky. “Isn’t there some rule against making out in the library?”  
“Not if you’re doing so with the express permission of the librarian.”  
“Oh. Good.”  
He leaned in again.

Olivia knew she ought to be sensible about this; they were in the library, where anyone could walk in. But it was difficult to be sensible with Jacques Snicket in such close proximity. Despite best efforts, she could feel herself getting carried away, the color rising in her cheeks. If they didn’t stop soon…

“Ahem.”

They leapt apart as though the polite cough had been a hail of gunfire. Sampson, the elderly butler, was standing in the doorway – his eyes fixed resolutely on the ceiling.

“Uh…yes, Sampson?”  
“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, but you’re needed in the dining room. We’ve…had another unexpected arrival…”  
The butler looked almost more perturbed by how to explain this than by the state in which he’d found them seconds earlier.

“Really?” said Jacques, shaking his head as though to clear it. “Who?”  
“You’d better follow me, sir…”

Still blushing faintly, and sheepishly straightening her blouse, Olivia followed Jacques and Sampson down the long corridors to the entrance hall, and then to the main dining room. Standing in the corner, admiring a gilt-framed map mounted on the wall, stood a dark-haired boy in a damp, snow-dusted mountaineer’s coat. Hearing their approach, he turned.

Olivia blinked.  
“Duncan?”  
Jacques shook his head, as though unable to believe his eyes.  
“Quigley…”

The boy smiled, looking faintly embarrassed to be causing so much fuss.

“Quigley _Quagmire_?” Olivia gaped. “But…”

Just at that moment, voices and footsteps echoed up the stairwell from the kitchen. Duncan and Isadora were about to return from their afternoon’s ice cream-making with the chef. Olivia turned to Jacques, her eyes wide and urgent – but there was no time to arrange the circumstances more gently.

“Don’t be silly, Dunc, we-”

A sundae glass full of strawberry ice cream fell to the floor and shattered. Quigley smiled apologetically at his siblings.

Three painful seconds passed…and then Duncan burst into tears. Isadora followed a moment later.

“Oh, sweethearts…”  
After a brief hesitation Olivia hurried forward, trying to fit her arms around the tearful three-child huddle that was the reunited Quagmire triplets. Before she knew it, she was crying too.

Jacques and Sampson stood back, but when she smiled tearfully over at him Olivia saw that Jacques’ own eyes were wet.  
_Of course_ , she thought. _What it must mean to him to see three reunited siblings_. _Especially two boys and a girl._  
She rubbed Isadora’s back in an attempt to soothe her.

“I think,” said Sampson, “that I might just ask the chef to postpone dinner.”

For no readily explainable reason, Duncan started to laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, the song Isadora plays on the gramophone is by American composer Harold Arlen, who I'm absolutely convinced was a member of the VFD.


	4. Chapter 4

In the end, that evening’s formal dinner wasn’t so much postponed as cancelled. Everyone piled into the coziest of the firelit parlours instead, and the chef brought out a much-simplified menu that could be eaten from their laps. Under the circumstances, it was exactly what was needed; the Quagmires were still dazed with emotion, and all sat close together on one couch.

Jacques smiled to himself as he looked around their little circle of couches and armchairs. He had almost forgotten. As much as fighting fires or scaling buildings or memorizing quotes, _this_ was what it was to be a volunteer. Tea and blankets and tenderness…it was a kind of emotional CPR, and it was crucial. And Olivia Caliban excelled at it.

Noticing Quigley’s eyes on him, Jacques smiled over at the cause of the evening’s happy upheaval.  
“It’s good to see you again, Quigley.”  
“It’s wonderful to see all of you,” the boy replied. “And to meet you for the first time, Miss Caliban.”  
“Olivia,” said Olivia and Isadora in unison, and everyone chuckled softly.

Jacques knew it was not the time to press the boy with too many questions. Even if he could answer, it might distress his siblings to hear whatever he’d gone through. Instead, Jacques let the children speak – and, slowly, a picture began to emerge.

Since meeting Jacques in the abandoned house of the late Dr. Montgomery, Quigley had been on the lam. He’d read of his siblings’ abduction in the Daily Punctilio, and had been searching for them ever since. Upon arriving in the mountains, he had joined up with the Snow Scouts – that explained his food supplies and mountaineering gear.

“And this was the map I found back in Dr. Montgomery’s library, after considerable searching.”  
Quigley held out a much-folded piece of paper, and Jacques took it.  
“Ah yes, the old coffee-stain trick. Well…you did remarkably well to make it here, Quigley.”  
The boy shrugged. “I had no idea what I’d find. I was lucky.”  
He smiled fondly around the room again. Then he frowned.

“When we met, you said you were also looking for the Baudelaire children. Did you find them?”  
Jacques’ spirits fell, though he tried hard to keep his face neutral.  
“I did, briefly – but unfortunately I was waylaid.”

“I saw them last,” Olivia spoke up, “at the Caligari Carnival. Olaf stole them away in all the confusion when our associates arrived to evacuate me – but there _are_ volunteers on the case.”  
There was such faith in her voice, such reassurance. Jacques felt his chest expand with some unnamed emotion.

“When your associates find them,” said Duncan, sleepy in the heat from the fire, “they should bring them here.”

_When._

Olivia’s eyes met Jacques’, and a bittersweet smile passed between them.  
“I’m sure we’ll all do everything in our power.”

It was growing late, but neither Olivia nor Jacques could bring themselves to disturb the warm, sleepy comfort that had descended. They chatted quietly in the way that adults do, keeping one eye on the children – until Quigley’s head finally drooped onto Duncan’s shoulder.

“I can’t bear to move them,” Olivia whispered. “Can’t we just cover them in blankets?”  
So that was what they did. There was a potent domesticity to it; the two of them tucking in sleepy children in the half-light. Jacques had never really given that kind of thing much thought before…but then, he’d never spent time with anyone like Olivia.

They stepped out into the darkened hall, pulling the parlour door shut behind them. They fell easily into step, setting off for the wing that housed most of the bedrooms. Jacques was glad of their slow pace; he, for one, was in no hurry to say goodnight.

“It’s wonderful to see them together,” Olivia glowed. “I can’t believe it…”  
“Nor can I. And this is the perfect place to keep them safe. If only…”  
Jacques sighed. “If only we could have kept the Baudelaires safe, too.”  
“We may still be able to. This story isn’t over yet.”  
It caught him off-guard to hear his own words quoted back at him. He looked across at her, and found himself met with a warm and meaningful smile.

“As you say – and as Duncan says – wouldn’t this be just the place to bring them? Maybe our associates are doing better than we’ve heard. I mean, we’ve heard nothing.” She took a deep breath. “If they could only get the Baudelaires this far…”

The hope in her voice was contagious; Jacques felt his own rising to meet it.

“If there’s anyone who could, it’s probably Kit. My sister. She–”  
“Yes, we met. When I took over as Madam Lulu.”

Jacques’ heart lurched to think of the two of them together – the two most important women in his life. One of whom he hadn’t seen in who knew how long.

“Of course. How did she look?”  
“She looked good. We didn’t have time to talk long, but I was glad to have met her.”  
“I’m glad you have, too,” he smiled meaningfully, and Olivia glowed.

“So, you think Kit would be the person to get in touch with?”  
“If we _can_ get in touch with her, yes. I have no idea of her current location, or what resources she has available… But at the very least she ought to have a taxi.”  
Olivia bit her lip.  
“Well, Headquarters first got in touch with Duncan and Isadora via carrier pigeon. Maybe that would be the best way to contact Kit?”

He could practically see her brain whirring. Jacques felt the old thrill of planning a mission, of bouncing ideas off a partner. He had missed this – especially with her.

“That well may be… Let’s see what we can accomplish in the morning. If we could compile as much relevant information as possible – maps of the area, descriptions of the Baudelaires’ recent disguises, that sort of thing – then Kit would have something to work with.”  
Jacques paused a moment. “I’ll need your research skills.”  
She raised an eyebrow. “Jacques, you’re an excellent researcher.”  
“But what’s a researcher without a librarian?”  
That earned him a coy, laughing smile that made it difficult not to look too pleased with himself.

“Well,” Olivia sighed, gesturing to the door they had come to a halt in front of. “This is my room.”  
Jacques _tried_ not to file that away for future reference – and failed immediately.  
“Ah. Right. Well…”

“It’s been a good day,” Olivia cut in, quickly, before he could get to ‘goodnight’.  
“It has,” Jacques agreed. “I’m hoping for many more like it…”

Without quite noticing how, they had moved closer. She was smiling, sweetly flustered by what was very obviously about to happen, and Jacques couldn’t help the way his eyes fell to her lips. (Not that he tried.) He closed the distance between them.

He had meant it to be a sweet, short, goodnight kiss – and it was, at first. But her mouth was soft and inviting, and suddenly her hands were at his shoulders, his neck, in his hair. And after all, Jacques Snicket was only human. He groaned.

When he _did_ pull away, it was with considerable reluctance. Olivia’s cheeks were flushed, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath her blouse.

“Goodnight...” he managed, huskily.  
“Goodnight,” she replied. And then, coyly, a few seconds later, “Sweet dreams.”

 _Somehow,_ thought Jacques, _I don’t think that will be a problem._

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, please leave me a comment!
> 
> Also, find me on tumblr: @wednesdaygilfillian


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